


Toxic

by Janina



Series: Bound & Gagged Sansa [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dark!Jon, Dark!Sansa, F/M, Jon and Sansa are twisted, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-03-14 17:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18952831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/pseuds/Janina
Summary: Part 1: Sansa broke up with Jon and he's not about to let her go that easily. Let the games begin.Part 2: Jon is at Sansa's mercy now.





	1. Chapter 1

Jon Snow was not a man to be reckoned with. One would have thought that out of all people, Sansa Stark would know that. But then, she was no longer his girlfriend. She was his ex - a fact that he was not at all pleased about and planned to fix. 

_Tonight._

The club was hot, the music pumping. He could feel it through his body, an incessant beat. The club was dark even with the random mix of colored lights, and it smelled of sweat and perfume.

It felt like impending sex. 

Some were going to get laid tonight. Some were hoping to. If all went according to plan, he definitely would be. 

His eyes narrowed in on his target. On his Sansa. She was with Margaery, who wasn’t a fan of his all the time, and they had their hands clasped above their heads as bodies moved to the beat and their hair swished violently this way and that way. 

They were attracting attention from the men in the crowd, which was the point, and it pissed him off to know that this was probably what they did all those nights she wanted to go out with Margaery and “let off some steam.”

The sharks were circling closer and Jon’s jaw clenched as he took in the men whose faces he’d have to break later for staring at his woman with lust written all over their faces. 

She was stunning, so it wasn’t like he could blame them. All that red shiny hair that flowed down her back - he liked to wrap it around his hand when he fucked her from behind. And those blue eyes - they could look so wide and innocent, and then turn indigo when she was making it clear she wanted him. 

And her lips, those lips she painted red. She left streaks of it on his cock when she sucked it. 

Her smile, Gods, her smile and her laugh, and the way she spoke so intelligently about history - made sense and all since she was a history teacher. She was so fucking smart and he felt so fucking dumb next to her sometimes. 

There was that little bit of him that worried she had partly broke up with him because of it. But he knew other things - things like how to change your oil, put in new brakes, and how to construct a shed. He’d built her a chest for the foot of their bed. She’d wanted a place for all her keepsakes and so he built her one from scratch and then painted it with her family crest on the top. 

She’d blown him good and proper after that. He went nearly cross-eyed just thinking about how it felt when she took him down her throat. 

Finally, Margaery and Sansa took a break from their frenetic dancing and one bold shark inched his way close to Sansa. Jon held back from charging over and punching him dead in the face. 

No one touched what was his. _No one._

It was that sort of thing that Sansa said was one of the reasons she broke up with him, and Jon had a funny feeling that Margaery had something to do with that. Sansa sure didn’t seem to mind when he got, as she put it, “growly and possessive”. And what really burned him is that she would get just as “growly and possessive” right back. 

When his ex made contact with him to ask if he still had her hatchet (she was a strange girl), he’d ended up exchanging a few texts with her about how things were going. When Sansa saw her text come through on his phone she’d simply grabbed her purse and walked out the door, claiming she was going for a ride. She didn’t return for three days and he had no idea where the fuck she went. When she returned she hugged him like no time had passed and nothing had happened. Then she’d whispered in his ear, “If you talk to her again I won’t come back next time.”

But then, was that worse than when he witnessed her smiling and laughing with someone she had dubbed her “work husband” and he’d ended up locking her in their bedroom that night for two hours and not letting her leave?

Apparently, it was. 

What about the time she slashed one of his tires when one of his customers at the garage asked for his number? 

No one pointed at fingers at her, but when he went a little mental and tossed her phone in the toilet, everyone was all up in arms. 

Their twisted relationship was their business, and it wasn’t like Jon didn’t know it was twisted. They both were. Sansa knew it, too. They were also passionate and fiercely in love with each other. 

He knew Sansa loved him. He _knew_ that. It was in the little things she did - cuddling up to him on the couch, making him dinner (when she had the time), and trimming his hair and beard for him - she even did his nails and made sure his hands stayed soft. That was probably more for her than him, but still. 

And he took care of her. He fixed her car when it needed it, rubbed her feet at night and listened when she complained about certain students or school politics. 

They were better together than they were apart. There was only one woman for him on this godforsaken planet and that was Sansa. And there wasn’t another him that could give her what she needed. He felt a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. Little freak that she was. 

Margaery and Sansa shooed the men away and headed for the bar, the both of them giggling together. While they planted themselves on one side of the freestanding bar, Jon made his way to the other side. He made room for himself, much to the annoyance of the guy beside him. 

“Hey!” the guy protested when some of his drink spilled over the side from Jon hitting it with his elbow. 

Jon just looked at him in that way Sansa claimed could make grown men “piddle on the rug.” The guy certainly appeared as if he just might. He picked up his drink and walked off quickly. 

Then, Jon leaned on the bar, elbows on top and stared at Sansa, willing her to look his way. It was Margaery who saw him first. She made a face and nudged Sansa, pointing at him. 

When Sansa looked his way, her mouth fell open and she met his gaze. When the shock wore off, he caught the hint of something in her eyes. Something he knew quite well from from having spent almost two years with her: excitement.  
She covered it quickly with a look of annoyance and said something to Margaery that made her frown, but then Margaery nodded and Sansa started around the bar. 

Feeling pretty victorious, Jon pushed away from the bar and smirked at Margaery who glared at him. Good, let her be pissed. Sansa could no more stay away from him than he could stay away from her. 

He moved away from the bar and inched toward the hallway where the bathroom and the back entrance was located. He had a plan after all. 

Sansa stormed up to him, fire blazing in her blue eyes. “What are you doing here?” she hissed. 

“What do you think I’m doing here, Sansa?” he drawled. “You didn’t think I’d let this breakup stand, did you?”

“You didn’t fight me when I ended it.”

Was it his imagination or did she sound upset about that?

“You changed the locks and put all my shit out on the lawn. You also called your brother. He’s a cop, Sansa. What was I supposed to do?”

“Just...go.” Now she sounded sad. Defeated. “Leave me alone, Jon. It’s over.” 

He grabbed her arm. “No.”

She yanked her arm from his grip. “Don’t manhandle me.”

“Come outside with me,” he said, changing tactics. He fully intended to manhandle her and though she might protest at first, he knew what a little freak she was and what got her hot. She’d be putty in his hands in no time. But for now, she needed to act like she didn’t want him there. Maybe she even had herself partly convinced of that. Jon knew better though. 

“Why should I? What for?” she asked. 

“Just to talk. I think I deserve a conversation that doesn’t involve law enforcement, don’t you think?”

She pursed her lips together and studied him with suspicious eyes. He didn’t move. Just waited. Finally, she sighed. “Fine. Let me tell Margaery.”

He nodded, smiling inwardly and pointed to the hall. “I’ll be waiting for you right there.”

“Fine, Jon.”

“And don’t think about ditching me, Sansa,” he warned her. “I will find you.”

Her lips parted and she turned on heel quickly and stalked off. Oh, she wanted this. He knew it. 

Five minutes later, they were outside in the cool air and she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. It was her fault for wearing a sleeveless top - his favorite one, too. Red and low cut, it was gorgeous on her and easy to get off. 

“Why don’t we sit in the car so you’re not cold,” he suggested, pointing to his black Porsche behind her.

She turned, dropping her arms, and he grabbed the handcuffs in his jacket pocket and hurriedly cuffed one wrist. She started to turn back, looking down at her wrist. “Hey--”

But he had her cuffed before she could finish that sentence. 

“Jon!” she exclaimed. “What are you _doing_?”

“I told you I wouldn’t let this stand, Sansa.”

Her eyes widened and she made to run. 

She didn’t get far. Jon was on her quick enough and managed to wrap both arms around her from behind. With her wrists cuffed in the front, she couldn’t move in the bear hug he was giving her. 

“You’re hurting me!” 

Doubtful. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way,” he muttered in her ear. “You either come with me or I use the chloroform I have in my pocket.” It was a lie; he didn’t have any. 

“How the hell did you get--”

“Hard way or easy way, Sansa?”

“I hate you,” she hissed. 

“No, you don’t, love. I’ll prove it.”

“I could scream,” she snarled. 

“No one would hear you over that music.”

He pushed her to his car gently, wrapping one hand around her forearm lest she get any ideas about running off. 

She cursed him the whole way and Jon just smiled. He opened the backdoor of his car once they reached it. “Lay down, my love.”

“I’m not your love,” she hissed. 

“I beg to differ. Get in and lay down.”

“Why do I have to lay down?”

He gestured to the rope she’d not yet seen on the floor of the car. She cursed him again and got in. “Don’t even think of kicking me either,” he told her. “Or the chloroform comes out. Heard it gives one nasty headaches. Plus, who knows what I’d do to you all tied up.”

“You’re disgusting and you’re going to pay for this,” she snapped. 

He licked his lips. “I certainly hope so.”

She laid down on her side with some help and when he was sure she was comfortable - because he didn’t want her hurt after all...well, not much anyway. He tied up her ankles with the rope while she glared at him mutinously. 

With a triumphant smirk, he moved her feet out of the way of the door and shut it. He then climbed in the car and started it up. 

“Margaery will look for me, ya know,” she said. 

“She won’t find you.”

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded. 

“To the cabin.”

“Fuck,” she muttered. 

He grinned as he pulled out of the club parking lot. “That’s right, San. The cabin in the middle of the woods where you can scream all you want and no one will hear you.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah,” he drawled, “But you love me anyway.”

She fell silent and Jon smiled. Her silence said it all; she did still love him. 

It was a forty-five minute drive to the cabin and after letting her sulk for a while, he finally asked, “Why, Sansa?”

“Why what?” she asked innocently. 

“You know what,” he growled. 

She sighed. “I’m handcuffed and I’ve got ropes around my ankles. Do you really have to ask? Do you think this is normal?”

“It’s our normal,” he said with a shrug.

“Maybe I don’t want it to be.”

“Or maybe you’re too busy listening to Margaery tell you how our relationship should be.” He took his eyes off the road to turn and look down at her. She looked almost pitiful on the seat looking up at him and he had a moment’s regret. Just a moment though. 

He looked back at the road. “You get off on our games.”

“Is that what we’re calling them? Games?”

“What would you call it?”

“Unhealthy. Twisted.”

He laughed. “Oh, Sansa. You’ll never not be twisted. And I’m the only one who can match all that fire inside you.”

“Maybe I don’t want that anymore. Maybe I want normal. Maybe I want someone like Dickon who--”

“Don’t mention his fucking name to me,” he growled. “He’d bore you in a week. We’re here.”

Margaery had tried to introduce Sansa to a “nice boy” who wore Dockers and white tennis shoes and actually _played_ tennis, and Sansa had kept it from him until he’d overheard her talking to Margaery on the porch one night. When he’d confronted her about who Dickon was she’d hedged until he threatened to ask Margaery himself. She’d told him, and in retaliation he’d dragged her into the house and tied her to the bed and proceeded to make her come and come and come until she begged for him to stop. 

She had clung to him so sweetly, mewling in his ear. Screaming. Telling him again and again how she loved him and only him. 

He cut the engine and stepped out of the car. He made his way around to the back and she sat up and he maneuvered her out and over his shoulder. The wind blew, causing her black skirt to blow over her ass and he slapped it. “That’s my ass,” he told her. “Remember that.”

The cabin was his. A place he had built with his bare hands. A place for him to seek refuge from the world when he needed it. Then when he had met Sansa, it had become theirs. Long weekends were spent here when they felt the need to get away, just hiking, making love, and playing board games. 

They could be normal. They were “normal” more than they weren’t so he didn't know what the fuck she was on about. Sure they had their moments, but it wasn’t always like that. 

The cabin had three rooms - the living room and kitchen rolled into each other, and then there was the bedroom off the kitchen, and a bathroom attached to the bedroom. 

Jon stepped inside to the kitchen and carted Sansa over against the far wall and placed her down on the lumpy couch with the maroon sofa covering. She felt to the side and then righted herself and glared up at him. 

“You gonna run if I let you loose?” he asked. 

God, he hoped she did. He wanted to chase her down, throw her on the ground and fuck her in the open air. His dick was hard just thinking about it. She glanced down quickly at his crotch and then back up at him. She looked angry, but he caught the twinkle there. “What do you think?” she asked. 

Okay, so, she needed to warm up a bit first. Work up to it. He was game.

“I think we still got wine in the fridge from last time we were here,” he said. “You want some?”

“You gonna roofie me?”

“No, of course not.”

“I mean, you did threaten to chloroform me--”

“And you know as well as I do that I wouldn’t. Even if i did have it, which I don’t.”

She lifted her chin. “What’s your plan then? Keep me cuffed and bound all weekend?”

“Well, that all depends on you.”

He tilted her head to the side. “Oh?”

“Yeah, all depends on how long it takes you to get your head out of your ass and realize you belong with me.”

“I don’t--”

He bent down and placed his hand at the back of her neck and drew her face to his. He kissed her deeply, wanting her to just shut up. 

She didn’t kiss him back at first, but then he felt her melt by degrees. She moaned and Jon went down to his knees, filling his hands with her face as he kissed her. “Stop fighting me,” he muttered against her mouth. “You love me.”

“Jon--”

“Say it, Sansa. Say you love me.”

Her eyes welled up in tears. “I do,” she croaked. “I love you.”

“Say you’re mine.”

She sniffled. “I’m yours.”

He kissed her again and she swayed into him, pressing her chest against him. “Jon,” she muttered. “Let me go. I can’t touch you like this.”

He fumbled, panting, for the key to the handcuffs. He managed to fish it out of his jeans and with shaking hands undid the cuffs. Then he fumbled with the rope, and with her help she was free. He pulled her to her feet with him and kissed her. “I need you,” he gasped. “I need inside you.”

She stepped back a few feet, smiling, and whipped off her top. She threw it at him and it hit him right in the face. 

She used that distraction to rush right past him and out the door. 

“Sansa!” he roared, his dick pressing hard against his jeans. _Game. On._

She didn’t get far. Just by the car. She was on the other side of it when he approached and when he went to the right, she went to the left. They stopped. Stared at each other. 

“You’re a little brat,” he told her. “I should take you over my knee.”

“Don’t you wish you could?” she taunted him and jetted to the right. He ran around the car, and she squealed and ran off to the woods. He was smiling, beaming really. This was just what he’d expected and she’d almost had him; he’d almost thought she was just going to capitulate without any game this time, but he should have known better. Sansa was always up for a good game. 

She was like a sprite running through the woods and Jon kept his gaze steady on her while mindful of where he was stepping so as not to trip. He finally managed to graze her arm by a thick oak tree and she squealed again and darted around it. 

He could hear her breathing from the other side and he forced himself to go still and quiet. Then she did as well. He waited. 

The wind blew, a cool breeze that rustled the leaves and branches. Animals deep in the forest made noise, reminding them they were there. The moon was nearly full and cast light down upon them. The clouds in the sky were moving quickly by and stars twinkled above them. 

He was harder than he’d ever been and he swore he could smell her heat from where he stood on the other side of the blasted tree. 

She popped her head out and said, “Boo!” and then made to run off. This time, she wouldn’t get far. He was on her quickly enough and she let out a playful scream as he managed to catch her and push her against another tree. She winced and he pulled her away from it. 

“You hurt?” he asked, panting. 

“I don’t think so,” she said breathlessly. 

He spun her around to check. Just a little red where the bark touched her bare skin. He bent his head and pressed a kiss to one red mark, then another and another and she melted yet again into him. 

He went down to his knees and forced her down with him. He pushed her and she planted her hands on the ground. 

“You going to act like a bitch, I’m going to fuck you like one,” he grunted. 

“Oh, God, yes,” she breathed. 

He pushed her skirt up over her backside and tore her panties from her body. 

“Jon,” she moaned. 

He wrestled with the snap of his jeans and the zipper and then he shoved them and his boxers down and spit in his hand. He stroked himself and then used two fingers to check just how wet she was. 

She was soaking. Just as he thought she would be. He fucked her with his fingers until she screamed and then he pulled his fingers out slammed his cock inside her. 

“Fuck! Yes!” she screamed. 

He licked her wetness from his fingers and then slapped her ass hard. She cried out and he gripped her hips, knowing he’d leave fingerprints, knowing she’d love to see them in the morning. 

“Come for me again, you little bitch,” he rumbled. “I want you dripping all over me.”

He reached out and wrapped his hand around her hair and yanked her head back. “Fuck me back,” he ordered. 

She did, grunting and moaning. 

“Fuck me harder, you bastard!” she shouted. 

He did, bottoming out inside her, bumping right against her cervix. 

She screamed and her walls pulsed around him, milking him. He let go with a roar, unable to hold on. She’d had him aching for her the minute he’d stepped into that fucking club and saw her. 

Jon slumped over her and pressed a weak kiss in between her shoulder blades. “I love you,” he gasped. “Fucking hell, I love you so much.”

“I love you,” she said, breathless. 

Jon pulled out of her with a groan and did himself back up. He got to his feet while Sansa staggered to hers. He drew her into his arms and kissed her passionately. 

She kissed him back just as passionately and hand-in-hand they walked back to the cabin. They showered together, laughing softly, and caressing each other gently. Jon took her to bed after and he made love to her slowly, sweetly, until she cried out softly. He held her wrapped close in his arms as they began to doze off. 

“Mine again?” he asked softly. 

“I always have been,” she murmured. “And I always will be.”

Satisfied, Jon drifted off into a sound sleep. 

And when he woke up in the morning, he found Sansa gone…

And himself handcuffed to the bed.


	2. At my Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. Sansa's revenge.

“Sansa!” Jon roared, tugging at the handcuffs. 

A bird chirped in the distance. The wind blew. 

Other than that, nothing. 

She wouldn’t have seriously left him handcuffed to the bed in the middle of nowhere would she? He looked over to the nightstand. The key to the handcuffs were there, pushed to the opposite end of the nightstand. He considered his options. Like if he used his legs to get the key, how the hell would he manage to undo his wrists? With his mouth? His toes?

“Fuck!” he shouted. 

“You’re awake!”

Jon zeroed in on the door. “San?”

She appeared, smiling brightly. She had on her clothes from the night before. She also had a plastic bag in her hand. “You hungry?” she asked, as though this was a normal everyday occurrence for him to be cuffed to the bed. “I went and got some stuff.”

He tugged on the cuffs for emphasis. “You wanna let me out of these and I can help you?”

“Oh no,” she said, shaking her head, actually looking sympathetic. “I’m sorry, honey, but I can’t do that.” 

His eyes narrowed even though his pulse jumped in excitement. Just what did his little vixen have planned for him?

“How long am I to stay like this exactly?” he demanded. 

She put the bag down gently and came over. She sat down beside him and ran her hand through his curls. He moaned, arching into her touch. Leaning in, she brushed her lips against his, but pulled back when he tried to deepen the kiss. 

“I will set you free,” she whispered and then pulled back to look him dead in the eye. “When I’m done having my fun with you.”

She jumped up and hurried out of the room, scooping up the bag on her way. 

Jon sighed and tugged again at the cuffs. “You’re going to pay for this!” he shouted at her. 

He heard her laugh in the distance, the tinkling, mischievous laugh that got him hard every time. 

With not much else to do, he rested against the pillows and waited. And waited. 

“Sansa!” he shouted. “What the fuck?!”

He caught the scent of coffee and pancakes in the air and his stomach rumbled. “Sansa!” 

He hated it when she didn’t fucking answer him. The least she could do was talk to him while he was like this. He felt ridiculous, laying naked on the bed with his dick half-hard and his hands cuffed to the bedpost. 

He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Only ten minutes had past and it felt like an hour. “SANSA!” 

Music began to play. Loud music. 

That little brat. 

God, he was going to spank that ass. He was going to choke her on his cock for this. 

Fifteen minutes later, she strode into the room with a tray with a plate piled high with pancakes. Melted butter and syrup dripped off of them. Also on the tray was coffee and two glasses of OJ. 

She smiled sweetly, a regular Donna Reed. She set the tray down on the nightstand and proceeded to undress. 

Jon started to breathe heavier. Especially when she made a show of bending over as she stepped out of her panties. “You little bitch,” he muttered. 

She stood and twitched her finger back and forth at him. “Now, now, sweetheart. Is that any way to talk to your girlfriend?”

“San--”’

“And the woman who has the key to set you loose?”

He clamped his mouth shut at that. 

“Besides,” she murmured, placing her hands on the bed beside him, giving him a perfect view of her hanging tits. “I think you like it.” She reached out and ran a finger along his now hard cock for emphasis. 

She stood and assessed him with narrowed eyes. “Let me help you sit up a bit so you can eat,” she said. 

Stacking pillows and blankets under his head and back, Sansa managed to get him to a seated position. It strained his wrists a bit in the cuffs but he found he, well, liked that little bit of pain. And he sure as fuck knew Sansa did. 

She brought over a cup of coffee for him and helped him sip it. And then the orange juice. She doted on him, really, cooing over him as though he was ill and she was taking care of him. 

“And now for the pancakes,” she said and dug her fork into the pillowy stack. She got some on the fork and brought it to his mouth. Some syrup dripped onto his chest and she giggled. 

“Baby, these are delicious,” he said over a mouthful of pancakes. 

She chewed her forkful and swallowed, and then leaned over and used her tongue to clean up the syrup on his chest. 

He let out a half gasp-half moan and found himself trying to lean forward so he could kiss her. She sat back up and smiled and dug into more. The next time she fed him, she held the fork over his chest and watched with great interest as the syrup and butter dripped onto his left nipple. She fed it to him as she licked it up the mess and sucked at him. 

He yanked on the cuffs, wanting badly to bury his hands in her hair. “Sansa,” he gasped, half pleading. 

She ignored him and proceeded to feed him the next bite, repeating the dripping, but on the other nipple. 

And then when he’d finished that bite, she dipped her finger in the pool of syrup and butter at the bottom of the plate and painted his lips with it. He tried to latch onto her finger to suck from it, and she laughed delightedly before leaning down and kissing him. It was a wholly carnal kiss, full of tongue and teeth. 

“Let me go,” he whispered pleadingly. “I want my girl so much.”

“Soon,” she promised simply as she sat back and dipped her finger in the syrup again. 

This time she got up on the bed and knelt between his knees. She smirked as she swirled the head of his cock with the syrup, and then down the shaft. Jon strained against the cuffs, his hips lifting. He used his heels to push her forward and she sent him a warning look that had him dropping his legs back to the bed. 

No one would have ever guessed that the prim and proper woman Sansa presented to the world was such a freak in other areas. She was adventurous, passionate, could be downright explosive and volatile and Jon loved every single minute of it. He loved this woman; he was going to spend forever with this woman. No one else matched his fire - shit, a lot of the time he had to work to keep up with _her_ and now was no different. Just when he thought she’d zig, she zagged. 

He couldn’t get enough. 

And right now, with her mouth on his dick, giving him expert head, he knew he’d do anything she ever asked of him. When she swallowed with his cock in her throat, he saw stars. She’d reduced him to a panting, babbling mess. 

“Sansa, please, baby, please…” he murmured. “I need you, Sansa. I need inside that pretty little pussy.” She deepthroated him again and hummed and his hips arched. “FUCK!” he roared. 

She swallowed and it took everything not to cum in her hot little mouth. 

When she lifted her mouth off of him, she had a line of spit from her mouth to his cock. She spit it out onto his mushroom head and used the lubrication to jerk him. 

“I love you,” he moaned as he watched her. “I love you so much. God, Sansa, you’re so fucking perfect.” 

She grinned as she moved over him, straddling him. “Am I?”

“Yes, yes, fuck yes, Sansa. You’re my everything.”

She leaned forward and licked at his lips. He tried to kiss her, but she evaded him. “I like you like this,” she said, and grinned mischievously as she rubbed her wet slit against his dick. “At my mercy.”

“I am. I am at your mercy, always,” he babbled. 

She lifted, reached down, and pressed his cock against her slit. Slowly, she sank down on him, her knees pressing into the bed. 

“Fuck! Fuck me, you’re so wet and hot and tight,” Jon carried on. 

She rode him slowly, all the way up, and then all the way down, again and again. Her hands were braced on the headboard and she bent over him, dangling her breasts down. Jon lifted up as much as he could and latched on, sucking on one tit, then the next. He bit down on one and she groaned. 

“Fuck me, Sansa,” he grunted. “Take what you want. I’m yours.”

“Do you want to be set free?” she asked, swiveling her hips. 

He groaned. “Yes. I want to touch you, love.” She lifted up off of him and he cried out. “Hurry!” he begged. “Please!” 

Quickly, Sansa grabbed the key and undid his wrists. 

Jon wasted no time in pinning her to the bed under him. He slammed inside her at the same time her legs came around his waist. He ran his hands over her body, needing to touch her, to feel her, and then he entwined their hands and pushed them to the bed as he fucked her. 

She chanted his name, but all Jon could do was thrust and thrust and thrust. Every sensation was narrowed down to his cock in her cunt. Her whimpers and cries. The smell of her. The feel of her. It was all Sansa. 

Then she was arching her back and screaming as her velvet walls contracted around his pulsing shaft. He let go, unable to hold back any longer. He came so hard, he grew light-headed. He fell on top of her, panting into her neck. 

“Mmmm...I can feel your hot cum inside me,” she murmured as she dragged a hand down his sweaty back. 

“God,” he muttered. “I think I’m dead.”

“That was fun,” she murmured and licked at his neck. 

He shivered and lifted up on his shaky arms. “You are fucking crazy and I love you for it.”

She smiled. “Takes one to know one, Snow.” 

“Hmmmm…” he hummed in agreement. He rolled off of her and winced. “I think we’re a little sticky from the syrup.” He looked over at her and grinned. “Despite how fucking amazing all that was, I am still gonna spank you.”

Her eyes lit up with joy and she scrambled out of bed. “Beat you to the bathroom!”

He laughed as he climbed slowly off the bed and shook out his arms. Now he was gonna have to find a way to pay her back for this one...

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://imgur.com/bKHmGD9)  
> 


End file.
